


"What Fools These Mortals Be!"

by DixieDale



Category: The Persuaders
Genre: valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 14:01:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17663987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: A Valentine's Day story.





	"What Fools These Mortals Be!"

Danny Wilde flung open the door with his usual exuberance. "Hey, Your Lordship . . ."

"Shush, Daniel, can't you see I'm on the phone?" a frowning Brett Sinclair admonished his rather pushy American friend.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry, Charles. That last list I had delivered to you. That will be one dozen red roses to that first name and address. Six white orchids to the next. The third, an arrangement of bird of paradise and ferns. The fourth, she's allergic to plants; better make that one a large box of your most expensive chocolates. Next, a banana tree, the six foot one you advertise in your speciality catalogue. No, I have no idea whether it will thrive where she lives; that's hardly the point - she has taken a fancy to the idea of growing tropical plants. Now, number six, do you still have openings for that guest spot in an American soap opera? Fine, that will do quite nicely. Now, all to be delivered next Friday, of course. No, no, that will be all for now, in addition to the previous orders I've made. Oh, the usual card, you know."

Lord Sinclair hung up the phone, well satisfied with his morning endeavors. 

"Well, Daniel, what did you want?"

"Oh, nothing much, just wanted to know if you had any plans for next Friday night."

"Valentine's Day? Well, I hadn't quite made up my mind as of yet. It's rather tricky, you know."

"Yeah, I could tell by your shopping list. You putting together a harem? Or just an orgy. Maybe you should just book the Regency, rent a bunch of togas and order up some grapes and have a blast."

Sinclair heaved an exasperated sigh. "Daniel, I have a reputation to maintain. Each of those ladies have been most agreeable; I would hardly like to slight any of them."

Somehow the look in Danny Wilde's blue eyes wasn't quite what Brett Sinclair was expecting, not the 'let's have them all over and have a blast' and even the 'would any of them be open to a three-some' he'd heard on more than one occasion. No, in fact, that look seemed rather disappointed, even a trifle disgruntled. Well, no, that was ludicrous, of course. No matter how pleasant Christmas had been, just the two of them, surely Daniel never expected them to be exclusive. Certainly he'd never made any mention of that.

In fact, January had them working a special project for the Judge in Cancun, and he knew Danny had swept the magnificent Lucinda off for a moonlight swim and hadn't returned to the villa til almost noon the next day. And Brett himself had spent the evening in the company of the lithe and nubile Libby and Mindy, though he'd rapidly decided they were both a little TOO lithe and nubile. He could tolerate the lack of sensible conversation, but he'd caught that odd little glance between the two when he'd made a casual comment about 'fake id's', and had come to the uneasy conclusion that he might be dealing with what Danny so crudely labeled 'jail-bait'. Of course, the tale he related to Danny the next day made no mention of his dropping the two off at their hotel, slightly the worse for drink, but none the worse for anything else.

When he thought it over, though, he realized Danny had had a brilliant idea! No, he wouldn't cancel the presents, of course; he could hardly do that to Charles. The man was just too accommodating at finding just the right thing for the right person, no matter how odd the request Brett Sinclair might give him. But a party? Yes, that sounded like a lovely idea. And the Regency was the perfect venue! 

Soon he was knee deep in plans, and had pulled his friend and room mate into the process. There was a certain resignation to the American's participation, but his assistance was invaluable. Yes, a great deal could be left to the Catering Manager of the Regency, but if anyone knew how to put together one masterful blow-out of a party, it was Daniel Wilde.

And it was a blow-out, no doubt about it. The room was aglitter with sparkling lights, the conversation resonated with laughter, each toga-clad lady had a red rose laid at just the right angle across her plate. It was really amazing how much jewelry the ladies felt was appropriate with a toga! Sinclair was just as happy that he had the invitation specify the gentlemen would wear evening attire. As the host, he would have to dress accordingly, and he'd never felt quite comfortable in a toga. 

"That's gotta set you back a real chunk of change, Your Dukeship," the American stated over his chilled glass of champagne, nibbling at the caviar-topped piece of baguette in his fingers.

Sinclair winced, "Daniel, how many times must I remind you, it is unbearably crass to speak of how much things cost?"

"Yeah, well, anyhow. So, enjoy yourself, Your Lordship." And with that casual remark, the American tossed back the rest of the champagne, sat his glass on the tray held by a passing waiter and was gone before Brett realized his intentions.

"Wait, Daniel! What on earth??" Sinclair exclaimed, looking around in the crowd frantically for his friend. Surely he wasn't just picking up and leaving, not after the special invitation Brett had . . . had . . .

It was with a sinking feeling that Brett Sinclair realized that he didn't remember actually GIVING that invitation to Danny. He'd spent a great deal of time planning what that invitation should say, what it should imply. He'd gone to a great deal of effort in having everything just the way he envisioned it.

He'd debated a great deal about how to deliver it - leave it on his pillow, leave it beside his breakfast plate, have it delivered by special messenger, hand it to him directly. He'd debated long and hard, but suddenly he couldn't remember actually ARRANGING anything. He had the awful feeling that that specific invitation was still sitting in his top desk drawer!

He groaned, thinking of the elegant suite he'd reserved, the even more elegant midnight supper, complete with more champagne, even, (and he blushed to think about that last bit of fancy) red rose petals sprinkled across the bed! 

A few quick words to Andre, the one in charge here tonight, and he was out and into the night. Andre would keep the party going nicely; he would also keep an eye out for Mr. Wilde if he should return, find a way to keep him there. Meanwhile Lord Sinclair would be searching the American's usual haunts, taking time after each one to call the Regency and pester the ever-patient Andre for an update.

Mallory's had been a waste of time, as had been The Golden Door. Bristol's bartender thought he might have seen the American, but if so, he wasn't there now. Augustine's had been more productive, although Brett didn't relish the news any more than Carl relished the breakage he was grimly trying to get cleaned up.

"Was in quite the mood, he was, sir, nursing his Scotch and glaring at it like it was poison instead of being the finest we have to offer. Then, that lady got real friendly, seeing as how her date hadn't shown up. He was giving her the brush-off, if you can believe that, considering she was a real looker, and then her boyfriend walked in and took exception to the way she was hanging all over Mr. Wilde. Mr. Wilde looked like he'd just been given a birthday present, the way his face lit up, then it's Saturday night on the docks, fists flying, people screaming and yelling, and me wondering how I'm going to explain THIS to the management!"

"Oh, now? I'd think you'd find him in the local lock-up; the police were none too pleased, and he didn't even try to talk himself out of it. Not like him at all, Lord Sinclair, not like him at all," taking another sad look around at what remained of a once very nice little drinking establishment.

It took a few calls, but finally Brett Sinclair was standing looking down at a significantly battered Danny Wilde. 

"Well, come along! Unless you want to take a swing at me as well."

He regretted that the moment he said it, since the glare in his friend's eyes said he just might give it a shot. Luckily for them both, apparently Danny decided against it. 

Back in the car, Danny used Brett's handkerchief to tenderly dab at the cut along side his eye, the conversation they needed to have hovering just out of reach.

"Now what, Your Lordship? And what the heck are you doing out here anyway? You've got a party you're supposed to be hosting. All those beautiful women in togas, remember?" 

They were just pulling up to the side entrance of the Regency.

"Yes, well, it came time for the next event on the agenda, and I discovered I had forgotten something very important."

"You, Your Lordship? Nah, you don't forget anything, not where a party's concerned, or where women are concerned," Danny snarked, wondering just what the heck they were doing back at the hotel, considering he looked like he'd been in a bar fight. Well, he HAD been in a bar fight, one heck of a bar fight.

"Oh, but I did. It seems I forgot this," reaching inside his jacket to pull out the invitation he'd stopped at their flat to grab out of his desk drawer.

Danny squinted in the darkness, til Brett flipped on the overhead light enough for Danny to read the invitation, read the words.

There was silence. "And you just forgot to give this to me? Some memory you got there, Your Dukeship. Or maybe it just wasn't all that important." 

Yeah, he was pushing a little, but he'd had one hell of an evening. Even more, a hell of a few days, ever since he'd brought up February 14th in the first place.

"It was important, Daniel. So important I couldn't decide the most appropriate way to extend the invitation. Then . . . Well, nevermind that now. If you will accept my invitation, there is a more private party awaiting above."

Brett Sinclair was getting more than a little nervous when he heard that faint chuckle, "yeah, okay, I guess I'm in more of a party mood than I thought I was."

They got a few stares as they entered the elevator. Jefferson caught a glimpse and groaned quietly to himself, and picked up the phone to arrange for another suit of clothes for Mr. Wilde. Heaven knows they kept both the gentlemen's measurements on file for such occasions! By the time Mr. Wilde wanted them, there would be something perhaps not so elegant as he usually wore, but something that was intact and appropriate and most important, all in one piece, waiting in that little two-sided compartment in the wall of that suite Lord Sinclair had reserved.

Brett used his key on the door, waving Danny inward, and took a quick look around. Yes, everything just as he'd requested, and as if they'd been watching for him, the waiters took that moment to deliver the midnight supper and champagne.

Danny went in to wash up, changed into the heavy terrycloth robe on the back of the door, stood for a moment or two looking at those red rose petals spread across the bed, and an elfin grin came to his face. 

"Rose petals, kid? Don't know anyone ever spread rose petals for me before." 

"Never, Daniel? Then I'm pleased to be the first," and that was said without the customary stuffiness Brett Sinclair was rather known for. He didn't even chide his friend for calling him 'kid', in fact, decided he was coming to rather like it when he did so.

Later, stretching, lazing back amongst the sheets and the rose petals, Danny Wilde shook his head and laughed softly. "You plan all this, then you forget to give me the invite. What's that line, "what fools we mortals be!"

"Actually, Danny, it's "Lord, what fools these mortals be!", but strikingly appropos. Me for forgetting to give you the invitation, you for taking off and getting into a bar fight. You could have just SAID you wanted us to spend tonight together, you know."

Danny Wilde chuckled, "yeah, I know. Just, wasn't sure you'd want to give up all the lovely ladies you have on the string just to spend Valentine's Day with me. Especially with all those presents you arranged."

Brett let a slow smile come to his face, remembering the present that should have been delivered to the room earlier in the evening. Compared to the other presents, it was outstanding for being highly personal, rather than impersonal. Well, it was elegant as well, of course; Brett Sinclair did not do shoddy. 

And the jeweler had been suitable horrified at the idea of engraving the inside of the watch case. "But Lord Sinclair, one does not ENGRAVE a Patek Philippe!" 

But of course, one DOES, if the purchaser insists and is willing to add to the already astronomical price tag. So now, inside the case, very discreetly, that Patek Philippe now bore the question, or was it a declaration - "Be Mine".

And when Brett retrieved the black velvet case, handed it to the highly-suspicious Danny Wilde, the back of the case was opened and the words revealed.

A long look, then a solemn nod from the blue-eyed American.

"Anytime, kid. Now, always. As long as it goes both ways." 

Danny had his own present hidden away in the flat, one he'd set aside after everything had gone haywire, when he'd started to doubt, started to wonder if he'd misunderstood. Soon, though, after they got back home. 

In the meantime, there was champagne, the remains of the midnight supper, and all those rose petals.


End file.
